


At First A Dream

by Miko



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Body Worship, F/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Steve Rogers Needs A Kick In The Pants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 17:26:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4928578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miko/pseuds/Miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For months, Steve has been teasing her without even knowing it. Wanda thinks it's about time he put thought into action.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At First A Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks as always to my amazing beta reader, Nocturnal Rites!

Steve was thinking about her again.

Biting her lip, Wanda shifted in the armchair until her feet were tucked under her and her knees pulled to her chest, setting her book against her legs. Sam glanced over, his eyes drawn by the movement, but quickly returned his attention to the pool table where Rhodey was currently kicking his ass.

The change in position meant it would be less obvious if she started to squirm as things got… heated. They usually did, when Steve started thinking about her. Not always; sometimes it was Avengers-related, and he _was_ working in his office at the moment. Probably it would turn out to be nothing interesting.

Then again, he could be waiting for the computer to run a search or calculation, or bored enough with what he was doing to let his mind drift.

People thought about her all the time, of course, and usually she blocked it out. She’d never realized before gaining her powers how often men really did think about sex, and for the most part she was _not_ interested in picking up wisps of fantasies about her.

Steve, though… Steve was different. He seemed to get off more on the idea of giving _her_ pleasure than taking any for himself.

He’d caught her by surprise the first time, half asleep and drifting in a dream-like state that meant she didn’t realize at first that the ‘dream’ wasn’t her own. By the time she woke, she’d been so invested in it she hadn’t wanted to even try blocking it out.

Part of her knew she shouldn’t be peeking, that she was invading his privacy. He had no idea she was doing it, had no idea she even knew that he fantasized about her. Their relationship was entirely professional.

The rest of her figured if he was thinking about _her_ , that made it her business if she wanted it to be.

To her pleasure, when she half closed her eyes and allowed the subtle tug on her mind to draw her into Steve’s thoughts, the images she got were anything but innocent.

He was definitely in his office, because he had her sitting on his desk with her knees hooked over his shoulders and his head between her thighs. Wanda knew there was a quiet betting pool on whether or not Steve was a virgin, and she wasn’t certain of the answer. Oddly, she’d never caught him fantasizing about intercourse – though perhaps that was answer enough in itself.

What she _was_ certain of was that he very, very definitely knew how to give a woman pleasure, because he thought about it often. At length, and in great detail.

It was strange to experience the act from a man’s perspective, but she’d grown accustomed to it. Steve licked at her, slowly and firmly, each stroke starting at her entrance and sliding up over her clit, with a little flick at the end to tease her. He was obviously aware that he _was_ teasing her, because he imagined her writhing and crying out beneath him, her hands clenched in his hair tight enough to hurt when she tugged.

Realizing that her breath was starting to come fast, Wanda spared a moment of thought to ensure Sam and Rhodey wouldn’t pay any attention to her. She could have made them forget she was there at all, but that would require more focus than she was going to be able to maintain.

Steve had the most remarkable imagination, and he savoured every tiny detail. It wasn’t just sight and sound, or even feel – he inhaled deeply on every breath to catch the musky scent of her, let his tongue linger where she was wettest to enjoy the salty-sweet taste. And the genuine pleasure he took in the act was evident not only in the frequency of the fantasy, but everything he did within it.

Her whole body was throbbing with the desire to be on the receiving end physically instead of mentally, though it had hardly been a minute since she caught his thoughts. It was a desire built over months of him tantalizing and seducing her without ever knowing what he was doing.

Then he pressed forward, concentrating more on her clit, and Wanda barely stifled a gasp. “God, I can’t do this anymore,” she whimpered, curling into a tighter ball as if that would help contain the heated ache between her thighs.

“Can’t do what?” Rhodey asked, and too late she realized she’d broken her own spell by speaking and drawing their attention. “Hell, Maximoff, are you okay?”

“You look feverish,” Sam agreed, peering at her in concern.

Quickly she wove another illusion, remembering at the last moment to hide the flash of red in her eyes so they wouldn’t know she was doing it. “I’m fine,” she said, laughing it off. “I’m so tired, I can’t keep reading. I know it’s early, but I’m going to turn in.”

Distracted by her powers, both men simply nodded and wished her good night, then returned to their game with no further thought to the matter. Quietly Wanda slipped out of the lounge, keeping the ‘don’t look’ field around her so nobody else would notice. All she wanted was to get back to her room, strip down, and take care of the need Steve had roused so thoroughly within her.

Once in the hall, she paused and looked towards the area of the base where Steve’s office was. She knew he was alone, and this late in the evening, he was likely to remain that way. Nobody would be looking for her, either, and he was thinking about her right now. If she was ever going to confront him, this might be her best chance.

When she’d first arrived at the Avengers facility, Wanda had been in no shape to think about anything like romance. As she slowly picked up the pieces of her life and learned to exist without Pietro, Steve had been a steady rock, always there for her to lean on if she needed it, but giving her space when she needed that. She’d come to like and respect him, and she knew he felt much the same about her.

Then the fantasies had started, growing gradually more intense and frequent, paralleling her developing interest in him. Probably he fantasized about other women too, though that didn’t draw her attention; she’d never sensed the sort of unhealthy obsession in him that would lead to him focusing on her alone. Even so, he daydreamed about her often enough that she assumed it was more than idle thoughts, and she’d waited for months to see what he would do about it.

To all outward appearances, however, Steve’s interest in her was only that of a leader concerned for the wellbeing of one of his team, perhaps extending into the fond regard of a good friend as time went on. Not by word or deed did he let slip even a hint of anything more, and if she hadn’t been able to literally read his mind, Wanda would have doubted her own conclusions.

The problem was, she had no idea _why_ he was holding back, and didn’t want to break his trust and go probing deeply to find out. That meant she had to ask, uncomfortable as the conversation might be, if she wanted to understand what was going on. It was increasingly apparent that nothing was going to happen unless she made the first move.

Mind made up, Wanda detoured briefly to her quarters for a quick change of clothes – the dress she’d been wearing was comfortable, but not her most attractive outfit – and headed for his office.

By the time she got there the images from him had long since stopped. They’d cut off abruptly, as if his attention had been drawn back to whatever he was supposed to be doing, rather than coming to a natural conclusion. That was good, in a way, since he’d be more likely to let something slip if he was frustrated rather than satisfied.

When she knocked on the door, he called immediately for her to enter. Glancing up from his paperwork as she walked in, Steve smiled to see her and stood. It was something the others would occasionally tease him about, but Wanda appreciated that for him it was a polite gesture and meant he respected her.

“Maximoff. What can I do for you?” Steve asked, showing no hint of any emotion but mild curiosity. As always, Wanda was impressed by how completely he controlled his thoughts in her company. Even with her powers, if she hadn’t felt him earlier, she’d have no idea now that he’d been fantasizing about her only minutes before.

Still, surely he had to suspect that there might be a connection between his thoughts about her, and her sudden appearance. “I was wondering if you were planning to actually _do_ anything, or if I should stop waiting,” she told him, her voice dry.

The way he blinked at her, with a crease between his brows and bewilderment in his eyes, gave him an adorably baffled expression. “I’m sorry, did we have plans tonight?” he asked, startled and dismayed. “I don’t remember anything.”

Now she did laugh, though really she wanted to shake her head in disbelief. What she could glean from the surface of his thoughts indicated his confusion was genuine. “Steve. You know I can read minds,” she prompted him.

The look on his face remained blank. “Well, yeah. Why, what’s that got to do with anything?”

Sighing, she considered how best to put it. “It’s not always something I do on purpose. The closer I am to someone, physically or emotionally, the more likely I am to pick things up without meaning to.” She waited, but he still hadn’t clued in, so she added gently, “When someone I am very close to thinks about _me_ , it’s kind of like calling my name. It gets my attention.”

Finally realization dawned, and all the blood drained from his face as shock visibly set in. He stared at her, horrified, and then buried his face in his hands. The word he muttered, definitely not intended for her hearing, was an obscenity he’d never before used in her presence.

When he did look up, his cheeks had flushed so red they rivalled the stripes on his uniform, and his embarrassment was topped only by the shame in his eyes. “Wanda, I am _so sorry_ ,” he exclaimed, his voice hoarse. He had to lean on the desk with his hands, bracing himself, to keep from falling back into his chair.

“It’s all right. I am not upset,” she assured him, trying not to smile too obviously at his discomfort. His reaction was amusing, but also touching. His humiliation wasn’t only that she’d caught him at it; he was distressed that he might have caused _her_ distress.

“You’d have every right to be,” Steve said. He met her gaze briefly, flicked his eyes away in disgrace, then forced himself to look at her squarely.

“You’re hardly the only one,” she told him, and had to struggle not to show her distaste at the thought. He would assume her negative reaction applied to him as well, and that was the last thing she wanted. “I’m used to it.”

To her surprise, some of his embarrassment shifted to determination. When she reached out to taste the flavour of his thoughts, she caught resolution to own up to the magnitude of his mistakes – his words, not hers. “The fact that others misbehave does not excuse my own actions. Besides, none of the others are your leader.”

“I’m not sure Natasha would be happy to hear you say that,” she commented, and watched closely for his reaction.

“Natasha?” he repeated, surprised. “Why would she care w-what…”

Wanda had never experienced someone’s brain actually short-circuiting before, but that was the only description she could find for what happened to Steve as her implication sank in. He stuttered, trailed off with a stunned expression, and stared at her as if he was waiting for her to say something that would provide an alternate explanation.

When she didn’t, he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head in a futile attempt to clear it of the mental images of her and Natasha together. Enticing images, if his reaction was anything to go by. Wanda had to cover her mouth with her hand to hide her wide smile as he pinched the bridge of his nose, and finally looked at her again.

“That’s, uh… you know what? Not relevant,” he stammered, and he sounded strangled. Taking a deep breath, he paused for a heartbeat to gather his thoughts, coughed, and tried again in a much steadier tone. “The point is, _my_ actions were highly inappropriate, and I apologize.”

It was Wanda’s turn to take a moment to be sure she had herself under control before she replied. She didn’t want to actually laugh in his face, not when he was trying so hard to be serious and sincere. 

“Apology accepted, if it makes you feel better. But you didn’t need to offer one.” If her acceptance relieved any of his shame, there was no sign of it. Impulsively Wanda added, “At least you’re very good at not thinking about it when I’m right in front of you. I do appreciate that.”

“People _do_ that to you?” Now he was staring at her for a different reason entirely, affronted on her behalf. “You mean people who don’t know about your powers, right?”

Wanda felt her smile twist, turning to a darker sort of amusement. “Most people think, as you did, that if I’m not standing right in front of them with my eyes glowing it means they are ‘safe’. Unfortunately for them, it’s not that simple. I always pick things up, but my eyes only glow when I’m trying to _do_ something.”

“Well, you should explain better, then,” he said, brow furrowing. “People would stop thinking things like that at you if they knew you’d hear them.”

He was so charmingly naïve, sometimes. Or perhaps naïve wasn’t the right word... he’d seen far too much of the darker side of people to truly be innocent. Steve had such determination to think the best of people until proven otherwise. It was the quality that had prompted him to give her and Pietro a chance to prove their change of heart, and one of the things she liked best about him.

“Some of them would stop,” she acknowledged, smiling. “Others would only think it louder. And all of them would be afraid.”

“Afraid?”

Deliberately she let her powers rise within her, until she knew her eyes would be glowing faintly even though she wasn’t doing anything. It made her look demonic, she’d had more than one person tell her. “Everyone has secrets, Steve.” Catching his reflexive negative reaction to the statement, she amended it. “Private things, things they don’t wish to share with a stranger. Believing that they can tell when I’m reading their mind is the only thing that allows them to live with me in peace. I’d rather have the occasional ‘inappropriate’ thought than constant fear and wariness.”

For a moment there was silence as he digested the truth of her words, and she let it sink in. Finally he sighed, and nodded. 

“All right. I guess you’ve got a point, and it’s your decision. Why tell me, then?” He paused, and his gaze slid away from hers as he blushed again. “Am I that much louder than everyone else? Or do I do it that much more often?”

“You’re not the worst offender in either case,” she assured him. “Two reasons. One is that I know you will _not_ be afraid of me. You’ve been through the worst I can do, and never feared me for it.”

This time he had no difficulty meeting her eyes, and his expression was serious. “That’s because I trust you,” he said, his voice firm. Wanda caught not a doubt in his mind as he spoke. “And you’ve earned that trust.”

“I know,” she acknowledged, her own voice going soft in response as she gave him a far more genuine smile. “That means more to me than words can ever say.” His faith and belief in her was something she treasured beyond reason. That someone as incredible as Steve could trust her, after what she’d done to him and the others… it was one of the main reasons she’d agreed to formally join the Avengers.

The words hung between them, intense and pure. It was a rare moment of true understanding and camaraderie, and Wanda savoured it. At last Steve cleared his throat. “You said there were two reasons,” he reminded her, the words a touch gruff.

“Well.” Wanda allowed a hint of slyness to creep into her tone. “You still haven’t answered my question. Are you actually going to make a move, or should I stop holding my breath?”

“Make a move?” he repeated, eyes going wide. “Wanda… look, inappropriate thoughts aside, I hope you know I would _never_ put pressure on you like that.”

“Pressure me!” She couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “It’s cute that you think you could. Steve, if someone tried to get me to do something I didn’t want to, I could make them forget they ever asked.” She let her eyes flare again, and tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “Assuming it was unintentional, of course. If they were _trying_ to pressure me, I might not be so kind. But as you say, that would never be you.”

He seemed uncertain what to say to that. Was _this_ what had been holding him back? The idea that, since he had authority over her, she might feel trapped or obligated to respond if he indicated he was interested?

On second thought that would be very like Steve, indeed. It was exactly the sort of thing he would worry about. More, beneath those thoughts she could now catch hints of reluctance, a half-buried certainty that if he tried she _would_ rebuff him, and it would create awkwardness between them and affect the team.

Who would have guessed that the same man who wore Captain America’s mantle with such confidence would be so shy in his personal life?

Pushing away from the door at last, Wanda sauntered towards him, swaying her hips and making certain the motion caused the pleats in her short skirt to flare around her thighs. She saw his eyes drop to her hemline, before he yanked his gaze back to hers.

Leaning against the desk with her hands braced, deliberately mirroring his posture, Wanda let her voice fall to a husky near-whisper. “Does it count as pressure if I’m the one making the first move?”

Steve swallowed, hard enough that her eyes were drawn to the motion of his throat as he did it. “I, uh. That’s…”

“Do you know why I came here?” she asked, deciding that not giving him the chance to come up with another argument was the best course of action. “It’s not because having you think about me is distressing. I could block you out, the same way I do everyone else.”

She kept her gaze locked on his, refusing to allow him to look away. She’d never noticed the hints of green in the blue of his eyes. Probably because she’d never been this close to him before, in such an intimate way.

“So why don’t you?” he asked, hoarse.

“When others think about me, they think of all the ways they could use my body to make themselves feel good,” she explained, allowing her distaste for the subject to saturate her words. “They don’t think about what they could do _for_ me, only what they could do _to_ me.”

His eyebrows drew together, and Steve shook his head. “Aren’t they kinda missing the point? I mean,” he coughed, uncomfortable. “At the risk of being crass… you can get your own gun off anytime. The fun part of having someone else there is what you can do with _them_.”

His answer made her smile widen. “And that is exactly why I love to listen when you think about me,” she told him. “You imagine making _me_ feel good, and how much you would enjoy that. You think so much of others ahead of yourself, in almost every situation. I believe being with you would be unlike being with anyone else – in bed, or out of it. It makes me wish to find out what it would feel like in real life.”

It was the ‘or out of it’ that hooked him. His pupils expanded, and he took a deep, slow breath in. It took Wanda a moment to figure out what she’d said, and she had to peek into Steve’s thoughts to find out why it mattered – she’d taken it out of the realm of the purely sexual, and made it clear that wasn’t _all_ she was interested in.

Once she understood, she realized it should have been obvious from the beginning. She already knew that fantasies aside, Steve would never approach this sort of thing on a casual level. It was another of the things she liked about him, that made her want to explore where this could go. His interest had never been only about getting under her skirt.

Meeting his eyes squarely, she widened hers and gave him an expectant look. He was clearly flustered, but rose to the challenge. More or less. “Well, then… would you like to go to dinner tomorrow night?”

It wasn’t quite the question Wanda had been expecting after all her not-so-subtle prompts, though in hindsight it should have been. This was _Steve_ , after all. She bit her lip to stop from laughing, though she was sure her eyes were sparkling in a way that had nothing to do with her powers. “What’s the English saying? Something about a horse and water.”

Unfortunately, it appeared she was only confusing Steve. He was radiating regret and dismay at what he perceived as a rejection, and she hastened to reassure him. “Of course, I would love to. But…”

“But?” he echoed, disheartened. Again he took it as rejection, and Wanda wondered how many, many women must have hurt him to make him so certain she would do the same.

With her best seductive smile, Wanda moved closer, coming around the corner of the desk so she could reach out and rest her hand on his. “But,” she repeated, tracing her fingers slowly over his knuckles, to make his breath catch again. “How about breakfast tomorrow morning, first?”

Hurt was rapidly replaced by growing desire, matched by disbelief. She could feel his mind spinning as he debated whether she did, in fact, mean what he thought she did by that comment.

“Yes, I do,” she encouraged him. In case it still wasn’t clear, she slipped past him so she was positioned between him and the desk, then hitched herself up to sit on it – in exactly the same place he’d been picturing her in his fantasy.

Recognition swept through him, chased by a splash of heat so intense Wanda felt feverish from even the second hand contact. She shivered, and Steve stepped closer. “Is this a hint?” he asked, his voice significantly deeper than it had been a moment before.

“No,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes at him. “Nearly all of what I’ve said since I came into the room were hints, and none of them worked. _This_ is a giant flashing neon sign.”

That made him chuckle, the sound rueful. She planted a hand on his chest and shoved, adding extra pressure with her powers to ensure he actually fell back rather than stumbling. Steve landed firmly in the chair he’d pushed away to stand for her entrance, and she was certain that the way his breath rushed out of him had nothing to do with the impact.

Catching one of her feet in his hands, Steve nudged her shoe off and pulled it into his lap, his strong fingers stroking over the arch with exactly the right amount of pressure. Wanda moaned in pleasure at the caress, then pouted when he moved up to her calf instead. He didn’t notice, enraptured with watching his hands glide over her bare leg.

The contrast of his tanned skin against her pale flesh was appealing, she had to admit. The feel of it was even better, the rough callus on his fingers and palms creating the most delicious friction as he moved. Half closing her eyes, Wanda leaned back on her hands as he explored her one sensual inch at a time.

“You have the most incredible legs,” Steve said, his voice a husky rasp unlike anything she’d heard from him before. “I swear you could give Grable a run for her money.”

“I did notice you tend to pay attention to them when you think about me,” she teased him gently. Shifting her weight to one hand, she lifted the other to rake her nails through his hair. It was Steve’s turn to shiver, and he tipped his head into the touch. Then he glanced apprehensively at the door, and she laughed. “Yes, I locked it when I came in.”

“You know it’s weird when you answer questions I haven’t asked yet, right?” Steve said, but he slid his hands back down to her foot with a look of anticipation. She thought he would massage her again, but he caught her by surprise when he lifted her foot to run his mouth along the arch, instead.

The unfamiliar sensation made her squirm, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Far from it. Then he reached her toe and closed his lips around the digit, and Wanda gasped when he flicked his tongue over the pad. It was a shockingly intimate gesture, something that should have been silly but felt incredibly erotic instead. He did it again, adding the scrape of teeth this time, then ran his tongue over the dip between toes.

Wanda had been with a few men who did similar things to her fingers and she’d enjoyed it, but she discovered that the act was more intense when it was her feet. Perhaps because it was unexpected, something she’d never experienced previously. Her toes curled, and she kicked her other shoe off before she braced it against his thigh.

“For someone so slow to recognize a come on, you’re remarkably good at this,” she commented, trying and failing to keep her voice steady.

Steve chuckled, leaving her toes behind to trail his mouth up over her ankle to the curve of her calf. “Getting the gal is the hard part,” he said, his Brooklyn accent thicker than she was used to hearing. “Never had much luck at that. This, though… well, I had a good teacher.”

The image that flitted through his mind was the same woman from his nightmare, though she was considerably less decorous in this vision. Fully dressed, but sprawled back over an army cot much the way Wanda was over the desk, she tossed her head and moaned as Steve lavished attention on her.

The memory was private, not meant for her to share, so Wanda allowed it to slip away as quickly as it came. It did answer a few questions, though. He might not have a breadth of experience, but that didn’t mean he had none. Whoever the woman was, Steve had clearly paid close attention to his lessons.

Working his way up her leg, Steve alternated long, firm strokes with his fingers and soft, light caresses with his mouth. His cheeks and jaw were rough with a hint of stubble, and the way it scraped along her sensitive skin felt like the best kind of burn.

Wanda quickly discovered that there were more erogenous areas of her body than she’d ever suspected. Steve showed them to her one after another; the underside of her knee was very definitely one of them, as was the inside of her thigh. The pleated skirt she’d chosen was short enough to give him plenty of play space, and he took his time reaching the hemline.

Every touch left her breathless; every kiss made her moan. By the time he got to the hem her fingers were clenched so tight in his short hair it was a wonder he didn’t object, but none of the noises he made in response were anything close to a protest.

After her speech about how it was his interest in pleasuring her and not himself that drew her, perhaps she should have felt bad that things were so one-sided. But it _wasn’t_ one-sided, not when she could feel how much enjoyment he took from the act of worshipping her. There was no trace of dissatisfaction in his mind - _he_ believed this was a more than fair trade.

“Here I thought you were shy,” she gasped as Steve didn’t hesitate to slide his hands up under her hem. He stopped there to tease her, rubbing his fingers over the sensitive flesh and even scraping his blunt nails along her skin.

Tipping his head back to meet her eyes, Steve smiled up at her. “I’m only shy when I don’t know what I’m doing, or I ain’t sure of my welcome,” he confessed. “You made it pretty clear I’m welcome after all…”

“Finally,” she muttered, and he shrugged in apologetic acknowledgement of his own thick-headed obliviousness.

“You made it clear I’m welcome, and pearl-diving is something I’m decent at,” he finished. “So the only thing holding me back is not wanting it to be over too fast.”

“Pearl-diving?” Wanda repeated, momentarily thrown by the unfamiliar term. From context she had a good guess what he meant, but she’d never heard it put that way before.

To her surprise and dismay, Steve grimaced and leaned back, suddenly unhappy. Wanda blinked at him, now completely confused. “What’s wrong, what did I say?”

“I’m gonna sound old-fashioned again, aren’t I.” He was disgruntled and resigned, and Wanda understood.

By the time she’d met him, Steve had already been awake in the modern age for long enough that he’d more or less adjusted. The occasional oddity slipped through in his speech or behaviour, like his reluctance to swear and insistence on standing for women entering the room. But for the most part, he’d learned to blend in. She could well imagine the teasing he’d endured at the beginning, however.

Thankfully, she had the perfect antidote for this particular poison. “Does it matter?” she asked, leaning forward to close the distance between them again. “I only recognize some of the English terms, anyway. Mostly the rudest ones. I probably won’t know the difference.”

From the way his eyes went wide and the tense set of his jaw eased, he hadn’t considered the fact that English wasn’t her first language. She drew her hand down from his hair, lifting the other so she could frame his face, and rubbed her thumbs over his cheeks to enjoy the texture of stubble and skin.

“So…” she trailed off, letting her voice go husky at the end, and stroked his jaw once more. “How about you teach me your old-fashioned dirty words, and I’ll teach you the Sokovian ones. We can take turns demonstrating.”

“Fair deal,” he agreed, his voice as rough as hers, any trace of annoyance gone. “How ‘bout we start with pearl-diving? There’s a lot of words for that, though. Might need multiple demonstrations.”

“We’ll have plenty of chances,” she promised, and he smiled at the repeated confirmation that this was far from a one-time fling.

Catching her by the hips, he pulled firmly to drag her across the slick surface of the desk. When she was perched right on the edge he scooted his chair forward to meet her, one shoulder coming under her knee to lift it for better access. The change in position left her skirt draped even higher on her lap, until it hardly covered anything at all.

Steve stopped to look at her for a long moment, and she got the sense he was memorizing the image. For future fantasy fodder, presumably. Wanda shifted to put herself in a better light, leaning back and arching her spine to enhance the curve of her chest, tilting her head to give him a coquettish look.

She could tell he appreciated the change, because he swallowed and his gaze scorched her from the inside out. Sliding his hands up her thighs again, he caught the hem of her skirt and pushed it up those last few inches– and blew his breath out hard when he discovered what lay beneath.

Which was to say, nothing but neatly trimmed dark curls. Wanda let her smile slide into a smirk. “I hope you like the view.”

It was the second time she’d blown his mind, and it took him a moment to recover. “Christ, Wanda,” he murmured, the words shaky with shock and lust. “You were walking around in a skirt that short and nothing under it?”

“Well, I did know what you had in mind, and I didn’t have to go very far,” she reminded him. “But if you like the idea that much, I wouldn’t mind doing it for you, once in a while. Would you enjoy that? Watching me walk through the compound with my skirt swishing around my legs, not knowing if there’s anything beneath or not?”

Scratching along his jaw, she continued the motion up over the shell of his ear and into his hair. He shuddered, but she wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to her touch or her words. The best part was knowing she wouldn’t ever need to _do_ it – she’d put the thought into his head, and he’d wonder every time he saw her in a dress.

“Now you’re teasing me,” he said, turning his head to kiss her knee again.

“It seems only fair,” Wanda countered. “You’ve been teasing me for _months_.”

It apparently hadn’t occurred to Steve that it wasn’t only this one fantasy she’d picked up on. He groaned and hid his face against her thigh, then nipped at the delicate skin when she laughed at him.

This time when he trailed his mouth along her leg, he continued beyond where the skirt had covered. His hands were still at her hips, but the warmth of his touch was nothing compared to the shocking heat of his mouth when he reached her intimate core.

Once again he didn’t hesitate, although boldness didn’t translate to firmness. Steve flicked his tongue along her folds, pressing here and licking there, dancing above and below and to either side of her clit without touching where she truly wanted him.

Despite having been in his fantasies for the better part of a year, Wanda hadn’t realized how playful he would be. Not to say he hadn’t taken his time and enjoyed the process when he daydreamed, but he’d been more direct about it. Perhaps it was revenge for her taunting that he refused to give her anything more satisfying.

Moaning, Wanda got both hands in his hair and tried to force him down, but he was more than strong enough to resist her attempts. His hands at her hips prevented her from squirming, and there was no way she could gather enough concentration to use her powers. He’d taken complete control of the encounter, and she had no choice but to allow him to do whatever he wanted.

What he wanted was to drive her absolutely mad with need, apparently. Even when he did give in and drift closer to center he kept his touches light and irregular, leaving her yearning after him each time.

Shifting the leg that wasn’t hooked over his shoulder, Wanda sought and found the hard ridge of his cock straining the fabric of his pants. Steve groaned when she pressed her foot against him, and the vibration made Wanda shudder and gasp.

More noises were her reward when she kneaded at him, and he rocked his hips to push against her. She didn’t have the leverage to stop him like he did with her, but Wanda did her best to counter his movements and keep him from getting the friction he wanted. He wasn’t the only one who could be a tease.

 _Finally_ Steve gave in, delving deeper to find her entrance and press his tongue into her. Even that was torment in its own way, stimulating without filling, leaving her aching for more as she writhed beneath him.

About the same moment she realized she _could_ writhe, he raised his head and let his fingers slide in where his tongue had been. Wanda cried out, nearly a scream as she bucked her hips into the touch, driving him deep inside her to fill the ache at last.

This time he cooperated with her movements, matching the demand of her motions as he thrust in and out. Yet he continued to refuse her true satisfaction, once more licking around her clit without touching it. She could feel the heat of him, so close yet so far away. No matter how she moved her hips, he managed to evade her. When he added a twisting motion to his hand with each thrust in, she did scream in a combination of frustration and ecstasy.

Retaliating the only way she could, Wanda pushed her heel harder against his cock, rocking her foot in an approximation of a stroking motion. Steve gasped against her, drawing cool air across her throbbing clit that was a sharp contrast to the heat when he pressed his lips around the nub.

And _sucked_.

For an agonizing eternity she trembled right on the edge, her entire existence consumed by the need for release. Her breath sobbed in her lungs, her heart pounded hard enough to rattle her chest, and she strained for the peak with every fibre of her being.

With no warning, he pressed his tongue against her at last, hot and firm and _exactly_ where she needed him. Reality faded against the bright explosion of ecstasy within her, pleasure so intense it nearly reached the level of pain.

The world returned slowly, in bits and pieces. First she regained awareness of the feel of his hands on her, once again both braced on her hips. Then she realized the cool sensation along her spine was the surface of his desk, which meant she’d collapsed back onto it at some point. Sound returned, her own breathless gasps matched by soft, appreciative noises from Steve.

Opening her eyes, not sure when she’d closed them, Wanda found Steve watching her intently. “Hey,” he greeted her, when he saw she was looking. “Hope I lived up to your expectations. Hate to think I drummed them up, imagining I’m better than I am.”

The laughter that escaped her was closer to a moan, and it took her a few attempts to find her voice. “You have _nothing_ to worry about,” she assured him, though the gleam in his eyes suggested he hadn’t really been concerned about his performance.

He had good reason to be smug. God, he was even _better_ than she’d thought he would be.

Sliding his hands down her thigh, he caught the knee over his shoulder and eased her leg back down. His thumbs stroked over the muscles in her calf as he went, and she groaned in appreciation. Beneath her other foot she could still feel his erection, straining at his fly in a way that had to be painful, but there was no hint of impatience in his touch.

Nor in his mind, as she found when she gathered her wits enough to peek. Steve had thoroughly enjoyed when he’d done to her, and while he was eager for more, he was in no rush. He was a man who knew the value of taking his time when it came to the important things.

What had just happened very definitely qualified in his mind as important, and Wanda felt a different sort of pleasure wash through her at the thought.

A wicked idea came to her, and she grinned. Drawing things out to enjoy the anticipation sounded like a wonderful idea – though he might change his mind about whether he agreed with her in a minute.

First, though, she framed his face in her hands and leaned in, and he met her halfway to seal their mouths together in a heated kiss. The musky taste of her lingered on his lips and tongue, making her moan softly at the realization.

Only when they reluctantly broke the kiss did she shift her feet to his knees and push, easing his chair away from the desk so there was room for her to slide off and stand. Feeling surprisingly shaky, Wanda slipped one foot into her shoe and hunted for the other, smoothing her skirt back down over her thighs at the same time.

Obviously thinking she was preparing for a change to a more comfortable location, Steve tried to stand as well. She flicked her fingers at him, red energy pressing him back into the chair, and he grunted in surprise. “You’ve got work to finish,” she reminded him, her voice airy but smile full of mischief.

“It can wait,” he assured her, frowning when she still refused to let him up. “Where’re you going?”

Glancing at her reflection in the window, Wanda determined she was presentable enough to make it back to her quarters without attracting more notice than her illusions could easily deflect. Returning her attention to Steve, she raised an eyebrow at him and affected an arch tone. “I literally make your fantasy come to life, and you expect more? Greedy.”

He stared at her, and she gave an exaggerated huff – with a wink to accompany it so he’d know her scolding was only in jest. “I am not that kind of girl, Rogers. You have to at least buy me dinner, first.”

“I thought we were having breakfast tomorrow?” he protested as she made her way to the door.

Stopping just before she reached it, she turned and smiled at him, the most innocent expression she could manage. “Of course. Oh-eight-hundred in the mess, same as always.”

The chair arms creaked beneath the pressure of Steve’s grip, and his jaw worked as he narrowed his eyes at her. His erection created an obvious tent in his pants, and she could feel the roil of sexual frustration within him. He was disbelieving, not angry, or she’d have changed tactics. As it was, her teasing was only a form of encouragement.

“It's about time you got some of your own medicine, after what you've done to me all this time,” she told him, unrepentant.

In the end he sighed, and shook his head. “You are somethin’ else, Wanda Maximoff,” he muttered, low and husky.

A different man, a lesser man, would have meant the words as an insult, not a compliment. Might even have called her much worse, things like ‘slut’ or ‘cocktease’. Not a hint of that crossed his mind, however; from Steve, she sensed only appreciation and anticipation in the words. He was looking forward to the chase, and the challenge.

“Sweet dreams,” she said, and he barked a laugh.

“Somehow, I think ‘sweet’ ain’t gonna be the right word,” he corrected her gruffly, his eyes shining.

Tipping her head, Wanda had to concede the point. “All the more reason to look forward to dinner, then.”

“If you’re gonna go, then _get_ ,” he ordered, a heated promise underlying the implied threat in his words. “Or I’ll find a way to break free and drag you back here, see if I don’t.”

“Good night, Steve.” With a careless wave of her fingers to mask the way she was still trembling from the aftermath of pleasure, Wanda slipped out the door into the hall – making certain she already had a ‘don’t look’ curtain around her.

It was a good thing she did, because the moment she released him Steve sent a new fantasy at her, quite deliberately projected this time. She was on his lap in the chair, his unzipped fly and her lack of panties making it easy for him to rub his cock against her slick heat…

With her breath catching in her throat and body throbbing in anticipation, Wanda hurried back to her quarters before she could give in to temptation and turn around to join him. One fantasy-turned-reality in a night was all he would get.

But damn, it was going to be a long wait until dinner.


End file.
